


7 Deadly Sins Challenge

by girlintheglen



Series: 7 Deadly Sins Halloween Challenge Section VII [1]
Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-22
Updated: 2019-10-26
Packaged: 2020-12-28 03:57:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 3,468
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21130376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/girlintheglen/pseuds/girlintheglen
Summary: 7 Deadly Sins: Lust





	1. Casting Spells

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 7 Deadly Sins: Lust

Is it lust in your heart?

Or the part that you play

In the game of the night

Is it lust?

Is it just to be you?

Setting hearts all aflame

With a glance or a smile

Is it just?

Do you know what you are?

Eyes of blue, lips so ready

Are a catnip to the needy

Is that lust?

Like a spell aptly cast

You bewitch to the last

You beguile with a promise

Then are gone

Who can love you?

No one knows you

You are shadow, never light

Is it just

That we lust

Over you?


	2. Bad Habits

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 7 Deadly Sins: Gluttony

There were screams from the next room, making Napoleon cringe at the image of his partner being tortured. It was so unnecessary.

Henry Bennington-Hyde was a vicious man, a sadistic monster in the guise of English nobility. Illya had goaded the man until there was no doubt of the eventuality of pain and suffering. All Napoleon could do was wait for his friend to be thrown back into the cell.

“You’re a glutton, Kuryakin.” Napoleon knew better than to chastise the Russian, but that smart mouth needed taming.

“Da, you tell me that every time.”

A glutton for punishment.


	3. Tryst

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 7 Deadly Sins: Greed

“What are you doing?” 

“Why do you ask?”

The standoff between Solo and Kuryakin had been going on for a few days. It seemed, to those attempting to observe the pair, that the issue at the center of their disagreement was a young woman named Christina.

“I asked her out first.” Napoleon was smug, he felt as though he had a right to date the pretty redhead. He was smitten.

“You have squeezed her in, between Saundra and Beverly. You’re greedy Napoleon. You think you deserve every woman, not just Christina. You have an inflated sense of entitlement concerning the females here, _everywhere._

Illya fairly spat out that last. In truth, he had taken his time before approaching Christina, hoping to take her to dinner and a movie; a simple date with a pretty girl.

Napoleon was shocked at the outburst. He hadn’t considered that Illya might have a serious interest in the girl. He had barged in on the two of them and without warning asked Christina out before Illya could manage his own invitation. She had accepted, not suspecting the Russian of having any interest in her. 

“I’m sorry… you called me greedy. You think I’m… am I really greedy? About women?” It was a strange way to describe his romantic excesses, but Illya rarely used language he didn’t intend to use.

The blond head ducked, Illya was avoiding eye contact with Solo. He regretted being so emotional, it was childish. Christina obviously welcomed Napoleon’s attention, although he still meant what he said.

“Yes Napoleon, I think you are greedy where women are concerned, insisting on more than you actually need, as though compelled to collect them like …’ Illya stopped. He had gone too far with this. It was unimportant to continue, he valued his friendship with Napoleon more than a date with a woman he barely knew.

“I apologize for saying that. You… ‘ Now he looked directly at his friend, a twinkle in the blue eyes.

“You my friend are a serial romantic. It seems that you are compelled to have every beautiful woman you meet, as though to let one slip past you would compromise your …”

“Manhood? My virility? C’mon Illya, you know me better than that. I just, you know…”

“You just love women. Yes Napoleon, I know that. Perhaps you cannot help wanting too many.” The tension seemed to drain from the room with that. 

“Greedy, huh? Maybe I am, maybe I just want what I want. Hungry?” Illya laughed out loud.

“For…? “ 

“Very funny. I was thinking Luigi’s.”

“Ahh… yes, Luigi’s is good.”

“Greedy… sheesh Illya. Really, greedy?”

Illya just laughed again, then joined Napoleon in doing a double take when they met Christina on the arm of Mark Slate, both of them seemingly engrossed in some interesting anecdote being told by the British agent. 

“I think it’s Christina who’s greedy!”

“I think you may be correct my friend.”

“Luigi’s?”

“Lead the way.”

Christina was no longer an impediment to their relationship.


	4. Spy Island

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 7 Deadly Sins: Sloth

The outstanding attributes of the agents employed to save the world under the banner of the United Network Command for Law and Enforcement included, but was not limited to, a commitment to action. No matter where they might find themselves in the world, an UNCLE agent was ready to go into the fray and fight the good fight, vanquish the enemy and ... well, you get the idea.

On this day, however, neither Napoleon Solo nor his partner Illya Kuryakin, had any inclination to expend more energy than necessary beyond reaching for a cool drink from a reclining position. It was extraordinary to see them like this, but a sudden and unexplainable shift in energy had left them both in a state of relaxation that bordered on slothfulness. They hadn't straightened the bungalow where they were staying, had left dishes in the little sink and were even bordering on bad hygiene for the lack of showers and shaving. 

Illya's growth of beard was a light shade tinged in reddish hues, set off by the tan he now sported from weeks on the beach in this tropical paradise. Napoleon had also gained some color in his normally pale complexion. His hair was past the bi-weekly trim and his beard had him looking more like Robinson Crusoe than the Casanova of UNCLE New York.

Alexander Waverly had agreed to let his two top agents remain in the island retreat after they vanquished the usual suspects: a THRUSH enclave that was now under the protection of local law enforcement. Napoleon and Illya had been staying in the little beach bungalow during the mission, and now considered it truly, a home away from home.

"Do you think we should clean up around here?" Napoleon had asked the question without desiring an honest answer. He knew it was a mess, but the self-indulgence of not caring was somehow liberating. The influence of this laid back atmosphere, the ocean breezes and balmy weather, had all conspired to lull him and his friend into an uncharacteristic laziness that neither of them wanted to abandon. Not yet, not until they had consumed all of the alcohol, eaten as much fruit as each man desired and laid in the sun until their tans made them look like natives.

It was impossible to explain this change in the men whose fortunes depended on clear thinking and concise actions. Neither of them resembled his former self, the one that walked the corridors of UNCLE Headquarters, commanding the respect of other agents and the hidden ardor of countless female employees. Only a diabolical THRUSH serum might be the cause of this new _devil may care_ attitude, if it weren't for the simple fact that everyone needs a change at some point in life.

In the midst of the afternoon reverie of sun and surf, beer and plantain chips served by the very attractive Monique at their new favorite hangout, a familiar warble was heard from the bottom of Napoleon's shirt pocket. The shirt with the watercolor floral print that he wore nearly everyday.

"Ahh... Solo here." Illya rolled his eyes at the response, Napoleon's hesitation in answering was suddenly, surprisingly, inappropriate. It was as though the sound of the communicator acted like the ring at a boxing match, signaling the end of the round.

Early the next morning Solo and Kuryakin were on a flight back to Miami aboard a charter, then north to New York aboard the UNCLE jet. There wasn't even time to get a shave and haircut, so that they both entered Headquarters looking like the beach bums they had become over the last month. It had been a long deserved reprieve, and had come as the result of a particularly difficult mission. Both men had incurred injuries that needed weeks for healing, and emotional and mentally... Alexander Waverly recognized the signs of trauma in his men, and dealt with it with island therapy.

Word quickly spread about the appearance of the now tanned and tousled agents. The women sighed inwardly, and a few of them found ways to photograph the roguish looking men as they passed through security points. They were more beautiful than ever to some, tan and ... oh, there would be dreams tonight.

As for Illya and Napoleon, there had been redemption in their sloth; healing to both mind and body. It would be a long time before it was repeated, and for now there was another mission for them to embark on. To Illya's chagrin, each had an appointment with the barber. 

If he were honest, Napoleon secretly wished he could cancel his, for just a little longer.


	5. Laugh It Off

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 7 Deadly Sins: Wrath

The THRUSH lunatic du jour, Malcolm Edy, was screaming at the top of his lungs…

“I will unleash my wrath upon you and send you reeling into the… th…”

He fell with an inelegant thud as the sleep dart found its mark. Illya Kuryakin lowered his weapon and sighed heavily as his partner Napoleon Solo shook his head.

“What? It’s over, he’s… out. Quite cold I imagine.” Although his own comments were often accompanied by a deadpan expression, this one brought a small smile.

“Yeah, I can see that. Did it occur to you that we still need some information, the kind only he could give us?” Napoleon was tired, his suit had grease stains from climbing up a chain that, because it had grease on it, had been nearly impossible to do.

“Napoleon, I assure you that I have the information.’ Illya made a gesture like a courtier bowing to his king.

“I simply could not endure the threat of wrath and destruction any longer. I needed him to shut up.” Illya was, by contrast and quite uncharacteristically, completely unscathed by grease or anything else. That probably accounted for Napoleon’s bad mood as much as anything about this affair. Illya was supposed to get grimy and dirty, not UNCLE’s best dressed CEA.

“Fine, I get it… sorry. Can we get out of here? You’re sure you have the infor…?”

“Yes, I assure you I have it. It’s neatly labeled, a recipe of some sort.”

Napoleon shook his head again. “Some wild death inducing formula, no doubt.” Illya just nodded, then jerked his head in the direction of the door.

“Out, now… please.”

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

When finally seated at Alexander Waverly’s big table, it was of interest to the two agents to see a plate of what appeared to be brownies situated to the right of their chief.

“Mister Kuryakin, Mister Solo… ahh… we have interrogated the prisoner and found him to be, ahhh…’ Waverly seemed about to chuckle at whatever he was going to say.

“Well, the man is quite mad, isn’t he. I believe we will find the file in question is nothing more than a … ‘ the Old Man was barely able to suffocate the laughter threatening to upend his speech.

“The man, Lester Lydecker, has concocted a recipe that he believed was going to give him world dominance, when in fact… “

Now Napoleon and Illya were starting to laugh as Waverly let loose with a whoop and succumbed to whatever it was he found so amusing. The three of them were laughing out loud when Lisa Rogers entered the room carrying a tray laden with teapot and cups.

“Ah, ahh… yes, Miss Rogers. Thank you, and do have a seat, we should all indulge. I think a spot of tea will do us all a world of good.” 

“Umm… sir? Is that all there was, a recipe?” Napoleon was puzzled, and not a little concerned that his boss was giggling now, and he thought the man winked at Lisa Rogers.

“Oh, do have one Mister Solo. You as well Mister Ku…ahh… Kyur… oh, the devil take it. Just have one, it will do you good to get that scowl off your face.”

Illya was taken aback at that, resolutely refusing to eat anything being offered up as a curative to a bad mood. Napoleon, on the other hand, succumbed to his superior’s order and bit into a brownie, not once but twice.

“Mmmm, these are really good.’ Lisa poured tea for everyone, setting a brownie on the edge of Illya’s saucer. Waverly caught the look on the blond’s face.

“Oh gentlemen, truly there is nothing to worry about, I’m just enjoying myself over this latest THRUSH mischief. Our lab has checked everything, it’s all perfectly harmless it seems. The only thing Lydecker accomplished was a delightfully decadent chocolate brownie, which makes me wonder what all the fuss was about. Blimey…” 

That made Illya want to jump up and shoot someone. Alexander Waverly uttering the word blimey, it was inconceivable that he would use a common Cockney term. Illya thought back to the file and wondered if it could truly have been nothing more than a recipe for … 

“Sir, where is the file? May I read the recipe?” That made Waverly laugh again. “Oh, jolly good that. Read up man, read up!”

The recipe had indeed been studied and found to be simply what it appeared to be, a recipe for brownies. The joke of it containing cannabis was too good to ignore, so one of the lab assistants, a young man named Ben, copied the recipe and gave it to his buddy, a line cook in the commissary kitchen. To make it easier, Ben ferreted out of the lab some of the pot that was taken from the THRUSH location captured by Solo and Kuryakin. All in all, it was a cool bit of business, and Ben and his pal Jerry, the line cook, would have brownies for days to come.

_Except…_

As Alexander Waverly was passing by the commissary he caught the aroma of chocolate and, upon learning that it was a fresh batch of brownies, had requested that a tray be sent up to his office. Having learned it was the sole result of the affair recently resolved, the Old Man liked the idea of indulging in such a _sweet victory_. He laughed at his own pun when the full impact of the brownies began to manifest.

It was several hours later that the effects of the cannabis infused confection began to waft away. Napoleon eventually fell asleep on the sofa in his office, while Waverly sat for quite some time blowing smoke rings into the air. Lisa Rogers, her usual stern resolve to find Illya Kuryakin both unattractive and highly annoying suddenly without sufficient grounds, was reduced to daydreaming about blue skies and sandy beaches.

Illya took it upon himself to fire both of the young men, releasing them to Security with stern warnings about not repeating their folly and recommending they find other, more suitable fields of endeavor.

It had turned out that the promised wrath of Malcolm Edy was nothing more than his reaction to someone’s pot brownies. What a lot of trouble, not to mention Napoleon’s ruined suit, all due to a Thrushie getting high. 

_And that’s when Illya Kuryakin started laughing._


	6. Me Too

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 7 Deadly Sins: Envy

Napoleon Solo and Illya Kuryakin were the top two agents in the Northwest Region of the United Network Command for Law and Enforcement. They took more risks, settled more dire circumstances and saved the world more often than almost anyone in the organization.

Perhaps that was why they also, regrettably, spent more time as prisoners or captives of enemies such as THRUSH. It didn’t help that Solo was prone to falling under the spells of numerous beautiful and seductive women, at times courting the very female whose aim it was to destroy him.

Kuryakin, blond and blue eyed, sought by many women but more easily adept at refusing them, was more likely to inspire the wrath of his captors through agitating and goading them with insults and ruthless disrespect. Between the two of them, they had logged more hours in medical and more reprimands from Alexander Waverly than any of his other operatives.

On this day the two of them were tied back to back, their feet also bound as they waited for the proverbial _other shoe_ to drop. It would most likely be on their heads, heavily laden with some deadly instrument or toxin, all of it designed to maim and or kill the two darlings of UNCLE.

“All you had to do was not say what you said, just keep your mouth shut and not encourage him to kill us.” Napoleon was agitated by the last encounter with their captor, a slovenly character whose aim it was to gain access to THRUSH Central via his capture of Solo and Kuryakin.

Illya was steadfast, he didn’t consider his rant to be the primary issue.

“All I did was call him an unkempt, foul smelling hack whose chances of being admitted to the inner circles of THRUSH were about as likely as _not_ being voted most likely to succeed at offending everyone in his wake.” Napoleon snarled his signature snarl, a curled lip and a hiss of disapproval.

“Exactly! You just had to insult him when at that very moment I was on the verge of convincing him to let us go.”

“What? You must be joking! It’s your fault we’re here to begin with. You had to seduce the woman he’s been in love with for a decade. You stole the one thing in his life that gave him hope. Seriously, must you always…’ Illya sputtered for a moment, unable to frame the words adequately.

“Don’t you ever turn it off?” Napoleon laughed out loud at the question. They’d been through this before.

“As I’ve said before, when you’ve got it…”

“Oh right, I forgot… you’ve got it in spades. Give it a rest, Napoleon.”

There was silence for several minutes. Both men knew why they were here, and neither of their faults nor foibles was the reason for it.

“Look, I’m sorry Illya. Craven is a lackey trying to be master of his fate. He’s just mad at everyone, and… well, yes, I guess I did foul things up by letting things go too far with Corine Darcy. How was I to know he had a thing for her? She was the way inside the compound, and I needed to get inside.” A heavy sigh marked the end of his apology, such as it was.

“You’re right of course. I do make matters worse at times. My training included a myriad of techniques for making people mad, of inciting a degree of fury during an interrogation, something I continue to do even when I am the one being interrogated. I suppose our current position might have been avoided…’’ He let that trail off as each man considered their quandary, and some way of getting free of it.

“Illya, I have an admission to make.’ He waited, unable to see his partner but sensing his attention.

“I’m a little envious of your, um… bravado. I mean, I can give as good as I get but, boy, you really let it fly. I guess I’ve always prided myself a little on being subtle, maybe too much so.”

“No’, Illya was ready to join this little confession session.

“I must admit that your ease with women, the way they seem to just submit to you, offer no resistance whatsoever… it both baffles and angers me. I suppose that is envy, is it not? I cannot do what you do, and it would be to my benefit to pay more attention to your technique and hone those skills. I apologize for criticizing you for it.”

Another brief period of silence ensued as each man considered the remarks of the other. There was truth in it, and letting it sink in now was alleviating their inability to act. Almost in unison, they found a weakness in their bonds, working free of them and aiding each other in untangling the ropes until they were both on their feet.

“Well, what do you know. I guess a little therapy is good for us once in a while.” Napoleon wasn’t likely to take on Illya’s attributes any more than the blond was going to start wooing enemy female agents. They each had their strengths, and in spite of a meager amount of envy over what the other could accomplish, neither man was willing to exchange his abilities for the other man’s gifts.

It was easy work for the duo to get the upper hand with Craven, whose skills were confined to brute strength alone. In the end, both Solo and Kuryakin felt a degree of pity for the man, who in turn felt nothing but envy towards the men who now held him captive.


End file.
